Animus Corpus: Revenant
Animus Corpus: Revenant is an account by Seneschall Thufir. It recounts his first encounter with one such abomination and his subsequent study of the undead as it pertains to the Revenant. Transcript “Tall it was, and blacker than any night. It towered above my troop as it stalked towards them, all the while speaking in a terrible speech unknown to my ears, nor the ears of any man. The sounds was logs crackling on a fire and smoke billowed from its mouth and eyes. Those eyes… hot and burning and cruel… it was the eyes I remember most.” Before me sat a shallow husk of a man. A knight he had been once, only a few days prior. Now, I could not tell what he was. He looked a man, but gaunt and pale. He appeared broken, responding slowly to my touch and my voice, almost as though he was afraid to move or speak. Before I had been summoned, the castle’s guards had moved him to the kitchens in an attempt to get him to eat. That, and apparently he had given the sick and wounded in the infirmary quite a scare. ' '''They’d found him with the other men of the Purple, but he’d been the only one alive. He had no wounds that they or I could find, and no trace of the arcane upon him. When first they brought the knight to me, I’d have bet my reputation as a Seneshall that this man had not been struck by sword or spell. Yet as I spoke with him, it became clear that something was dreadfully wrong. He would not eat, nor drink, and requested often for wood to be removed from the fire, though all present save he were shivering from the cold. ' 'Finally, when the man who had been a knight was freed of his mail and linen shirt, I urged he begin his tale from the beginning. ' '''“We found it. It did not take long. The traveler’s reports were correct, there was a shadow of a man in the woods along the road, though had we known what it was, we’d have been better to close the road for good. Of course we’d hoped it was Rexel, that we might collect the bounty on his head and be on our way. Some of those who travelled with me thought it was a demon, or even a forgotten dragon. The wiser of us surmised that it must be a crafty brigand, or perhaps a scale-back seeking to do us harm. The truth was far worse.” I could see the fear in the man’s eyes. I’d known this Knight of the Thistle, Ser Perth, to attempt the joust without helm or hauberk, trusting entirely to his skill with the lance to deliver him. This was reckless abandon had won him the enmity of many, but he’d only laughed when they’d chastised him. Now, not a year later, Ser Perth was before me. Except, he was only Perth now. Without helm or mail, he appeared little more than a boy looking up at me with those frightened eyes. ' '“We never had a chance. Oh we found it easy enough, and we’d had our swords drawn the moment it showed us its eyes. Janys had her spells on us and Ramar his prayers, but none of it mattered. It came at us slow, like it was taunting us. Its bloody eyes moved from one of us to the other, locking its gaze for just a moment with each of us, like it was searching each of us for something.” I asked if the hollow knight knew what this thing might be searching for, but he gave no answer. I asked if it looked like Rexel, the murderer who’d eluded justice for some months, but the knight simply shook his head, and continued his tale. “Once it had the jest of each of us, it cut us down. It was as though our presence had for a time entertained it, but it had grown bored and decided to discard us the way a toddler might a toy. Indeed, we may as well have been toy knights made of wood instead of grown warriors in mail for all the help it gave us. We hadn’t even the time to speak out when Janys was dead. I watched her head leap from her shoulders. The shadow’s blade was like a woodsman’s axe, and Janys’ neck nothing more than a sapling. Alarmed, we took to a hopeless fight. Our swords and spears glanced off the thing the way they might have glanced off a boulder. More than once I saw one of my host drop their arms, clutching their hands in pain before the beast slew them. Only Maric’s blade could turn the shadows.” I remembered Ser Maric. Though a stranger to me when he’d arrived at the castle before the hunt began, he had an air of gallantry about him. His hair was long and golden, his armor shone, he spoke like a minstrel, and sparred with the best of them. I’ve attended many knights in my time, and none seemed more like the songs than Ser Maric. Of course, the man was also a braggart, displaying his glowing sword to anyone who asked (and many that did not). The thing was of the old dragonlords, like so many knights’ treasures. Surely it was the magic in the blade that allowed for the braggart to hold his own against this creature? “Blow for blow they exchanged, long enough for the rest of us to collect our heads and press the attack. But the creature, it would simply turn Maric’s blade, then run one of us through like butter. Just as quick, its sword was back out and coming down upon Maric again, and one of us would be dead. Soon it was just Maric and I. He called to me to aid him, but I was craven, my hands weak and loose about my sword-hilt. Maric tired, I could tell from the way his blows became slower and his parries closer and closer to his head and chest, yet the beast would not tire. Each blow came just as quickly and just as viciously as the one before. I wept as it killed him.” I was astonished. A man who’d dared to joust unarmored hadn’t even attempted a strike on this foe. Perhaps it was for the better, for Ser Perth was still alive. Somehow, I doubted he felt the same way. I could see from his face that his tale was not yet finished, but his tears were welling in his eyes by this point. It was perhaps an hour later before he concluded. “It didn’t kill me. It… spoke… to me. I couldn’t understand the words, they were like the fire and smoke of before. Only one word did I grasp, ‘Rexel.’ The rest just filled my ears with terror, I can still hear it now.” I asked again if the thing he described to me now bore any resemblance to Rexel. ' '“Not like Rexel. Nor any many or woman. The thing was unlike anything of this earth. No, I do not think it was Rexel, I think it wanted Rexel.” * * * 'This was my first encounter with the undead, though I did not know it at the time. This harrowing experience prompted my study, that other men should not have to suffer the fate of Ser Perth, Ser Maric, and their companions. After years of study, I determined that Ser Perth had been correct. The creature he described was in fact not the criminal Rexel. Indeed, Rexel’s bounty was turned in by a minor aristocrat in Solis who’d reportedly captured the outlaw leaving a pub. Yet the killings in the woods near my lord’s castle did not stop. ' 'I was determined to learn of this creature by this time, speaking with all travelers who’d ignored the warnings we posted on the road and borrowing tomes from my colleagues and contemporaries as far as my birds could travel. Eventually, I learned the truth. ' 'The creature that had slain Ser Maric was in fact a Revenant, one of the only of the undead feared by the dragonborn sages who’d first recorded their existence. Extremely rare these creatures are, forged only by a great hatred and malice for their killer such as cannot be described. These creatures exist for a single purpose: to avenge their own death. Though it would seem that in the absence of their abuser, the Revenant has difficulty distinguishing its target from other members of the living. Or perhaps the Revenant can quell its thirst for blood for a time with the deaths of others. ' 'From all known records the dragonborn prepared on these creatures (and there are few of these records to be sure), it would seem these creatures depart our world upon the death of their intended, perhaps abandoning their bodily vessel in an attempt to pursue their abuser into whatever afterlife may await them. It is a troubling thought. ' 'But what happens when a Revenant cannot find its killer? Like all undead, the Revenant is tied to the things it knew in life. It will not stray far from its presumed home, which is often the host’s place of death. It will also protect the host’s possessions fiercely (possibly accounting for the great sword carried by the Revenant in Ser Perth’s tale). The question troubled me for a long time. Too long, for as I brooded over the answer, travelers ignorant to the wood’s dangers and heedless of our warnings continued to be butchered. ' 'Finally, I tried the unthinkable. I requested Rexel’s remains from the Justicar who’d executed him. She was most annoyed with me for requesting her “favorite spike ornament” but eventually conceited that I may collect the head to preserve the lives of innocents. The rest of the body had been burned. I took the bloody, decomposing remains to the woods and presented it. It was not long before the Revenant appeared. I called out to it, showing what remained of the dead outlaw. Only when it seemed certain of the head’s authenticity did the Revenant vanish. ' 'I know not what would happen if the outlaw’s remains could not have been recovered, or what cruelty he had inflicted upon the host of the Revenant. A Revenant’s possession is a powerful one, often stripping the host corpse completely of its corporeal form. Such was the case with this one, who left nothing but a smokey haze where once it had stood. '